


An Unmitigated Disaster

by Muze



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: Based on episode 1-6 and preview of episode 7, F/M, Pining, Toxic Relationship, getting rid of a toxic person, incest (kind of )
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 14:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20913971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muze/pseuds/Muze
Summary: “Lord Babington, please. You must see that it would be an unmitigated disaster.”She was saying goodbye to a comfortable life because of Edward, and she was starting to doubt whether that was a smart decision. Maybe her rejection had been the unmitigated disaster.OR: In which Esther finally sees through Edward and Lady Denham has a couple of schemes up her sleeve.





	An Unmitigated Disaster

_“Whatever this happy future is you see for the pair of you, it is quite impossible… But in your heart of hearts, you already know that.”_

She did.

She had for a while now.

Everyone could confirm Edward was charming and nice to be around.

Everyone would also say Edward wasn’t to be trusted.

She had thought that rang true for everyone but her.

Now she wondered if it rang true for everyone _including_ her.

.

.

.

Esther had always kept everyone at bay.

Everybody wanted something from everyone. This lesson was instilled upon her by her brother and her aunt. She didn’t mind not having any confidantes, ninety percent of the people she knew were poor company anyways.

She kept them away. All of them. Including her stupid niece who’d gotten closer to Edward than she ever had, the Parkers, the London friends of Sydney… She’d borne their presence only when the occasion required her to converse with them.

That was how this whole mess had started with. Polite conversation, or as polite as she was willing to go. She never wanted to be too polite to men, the ruder she was, the sooner they steered clear from her. The technique always worked. Except on Lord Babington.

The first night, she had been annoyed by his attention.

When the first letter came, she was shocked. It was the most persistent a man had been. But she wasn’t interested, so there was no use in replying.

Then came the next letter. In face to face conversation she had at least responded, even if her remarks were dry and apathetic. But now he didn’t even need a word of hers to continue. This time her brother did notice, and he questioned why she would receive two letters. In the midst of a jealous episode she decided to test how he would react if she allowed someone else to give her attention.

So she started to read Babington’s letters to him.

“It’s just the idea that you could ever favour him that I find so deliciously… preposterous.”

“Why do you think it won’t come to anything?”

He was still confident he was the only one who could ever have her heart. He never feared. He wasn’t even annoyed. But the amusement and the daily remarks he made showed that he at least cared in some undefined way.

She should have realized then that to him she was just a toy he possessed but wasn’t interested in until someone else wanted it.

But with every touch, with every brush of his fingers along her neck, with every step he made towards her, critical thoughts were drowned by tons of excitement and anticipation.

.

.

.

Lord Babington visited and promised her he wouldn’t give up on her.

And after years of begging for any kind of attention, the idea that someone would willingly and continuously take time to be occupied with her, without her having to beg for it, quite drew her attention.

It amused her, but she’d heard enough stories from her brother to know men rarely meant anything. And she knew their attentions were fickle at best. So she allowed herself to enjoy it without thinking too much of it.

Then in came her aunt with the announcement Lord Babington was invited and she was to talk with him. She was annoyed by her aunts meddling.

Annoyed that her aunt tried to ruin her future with Edward.

She huffed and puffed.

But at night, she feared.

She was nearing 26, she was past her prime and flirting with Spinster territory.

She’d wasted her young years on a feeble promise of living in Italy with Edward. She never tried to flirt with men. She’d been so reassured by Edward that she would get what she wanted.

But what if she didn’t?

She wouldn’t be able to keep her good looks for another ten years, nor would she manage to get a lot of children if she waited even longer.

She didn’t have any dowry to recommend her. What would happen to her if her aunt and her money were gone and Edward failed to live up to his promise?

An old, poor spinster in a crumbling ruin. She would be lucky to have anyone who asked.

It was a grim bleak future.

.

.

.

She didn’t know what part she was playing on the day of the game, or for whom.

She told herself she was humouring her aunt by seeking out Babington’s company.

She told herself she was pleasing Edward by remaining sharp and cool.

She told herself she was just agreeing to walk with him because etiquette required her to accept when a man offered, especially when her aunt wished for her to spend time with him.

She couldn’t tell herself she had to enjoy his company, she just did.

She found no excuse to laugh with him, except because she genuinely felt the need to.

And she had no motivation supported by treatises on aesthetics or by general good taste to consider

his face comely when he laughed.

So she refused to dwell on it. The lack of reasons made her anxious.

She did have reasons, and the right, to ask time to consider his proposal. Ranging from comparing the cons and pros to pride to Edward.

But alone at home, the walls were creeping in on her.

Loneliness enveloped her like a cold uncomforting blanket as she stared out of her window. A shrill contrast to the warm afternoon and feeling of warmth in her belly as Lord Babington had fallen on his knee to ask her while she was still laughing. 

Her aunts words had never rang lauder than they did in the empty sitting room. Christ, even Clara’s words reverberated through the room.

She was poor.

Her hopes of a future with Edward were wishful thinking at best, and foolish at worst.

He was rich, and not the poorest company.

And if he for some reason liked a woman who had little to recommend her in either personality or wealth, she wouldn’t stop him.

.

.

.

But then came Edward.

And that kiss.

Her resolve crumbled to dust.

Refusing Babington had seemed as evident and necessary as breathing. After years of loving Edward, and him loving her, he’d finally kissed her. It was the furthest she’d ever gotten. She couldn’t ruin the biggest step forward they’d ever made because of someone she’d shared not a full ten conversations with. Love wasn’t laughing. Love was agony, and a heart which felt heavy with excitement and fear. It’s what she’d always felt for Edward, and what she’d always read about in stories. Love was pain. And love was difficult to obtain.

Love wasn’t this erratic heartbeat and breathy laughs and quips back-and-forth.

Edward was the only real family she had. The only one who was there for her every day, even if he was rude and sarcastic.Their love wasn't nice, but it was _real_.

He was the only one who’d touched her in years. The only one who hugged her when she felt awful. He was the only one she didn’t have to pretend with. She could walk around in her morning gown the whole day if she liked, he’d seen it since they were thirteen. She daren’t think of letting someone else see her in such a state, to show them her vulnerable side. She’d built so much on this public persona that just the mere thought of dropping it in front of someone and showing them her other side felt impossible.

She couldn’t lose him. And that fear had kept her coming back to him time and time again while he showed her only the smallest signs of affection and the vaguest of promises.

.

.

.

“Lord Babington, please. You must see that it would be an unmitigated disaster.”

She didn't know who she was trying to convince most by saying that: him or herself?

Did she still believe the words she was speaking?

She was saying goodbye to a comfortable life because of Edward, and she was starting to doubt whether that was a smart decision.

.

.

.

She liked Edward for being a realist. He always drew bleak portraits and sarcastic paintings of people and life in general. She considered herself a realist too. She looked at other men with cool detachment: if they were mean, they would be even crueller once you got close, and if they were nice they were either stupid or cruel behind the face they wore to face the world.

Of course, she never analysed Edward, herself or their goals in a realistic manner. And perhaps she should have.

Why would a man keen on touching every woman to “maintain a persona” be true to her? There was no need to act like a dandy. Now if there were rumours about him being in love with… say her, showing he looked at other ladies would have been understandable… But that wasn’t the case. And at public banquets or parties he wasn’t talking to the richest ladies for the sake of his aunt, most of them weren’t rich enough.

What were the odds of them receiving more than enough money from their aunt? They’d been trying to earn her favour for years and they hadn’t endeared themselves any more to her. She was suspicious of their motifs, righteously so.

She’d always looked towards the will as her saving grace, the one thing which could grant her a future with Edward. She hoped that was why he was so fervent about finding it once he heard of it.

But it also worried her. She cared about the will, and she knew that their aunt had to die for them to get the money but it had always been on a technical level.

Seeing her aunt bedbound and actually ill had shook her. This lady had been as solid as a rock, a beacon of health. She seemed invincible, her health as unyielding as her iron will.

She actually worried.

She actually had trouble sleeping because of it.

And then she found her brother the next day with dark circles underneath his eyes, having chased after the money all night.

He didn’t seem fazed in the slightest by their aunt’s health.

He didn't care about the human cost of the money.

‘Maybe I’ve made a mistake.’

She admitted to herself.

.

.

.

Edward continued his habit of disappearing and taking ladies on walks as she remained behind.

She walked the grounds of their old crumbling house in dire need of repairs.

She watched the orange, yellow and red leaves soar through the sky, get picked up by the wind and land in the fountain or the grass.

Nature was dying.

As were her hopes and dreams.

Her heart was restless, her heartbeat picking up whenever she tried to imagine a future.

She couldn’t.

There were no follow-up kisses.

No long hugs.

Nothing lovers do.

She found herself in the exact spot Lord Babington proposed.

‘I’ve been unfair to him. Again.’

She hadn’t seen or heard from him since news broke that he’d gone to London.

Maybe her rejection had been the unmitigated disaster.

.

.

.

She visited her aunt four days after she’d first been taken ill. She still wasn’t better. It was the longest she’d been ill since she could remember.

After two hours of playing the harp to her, she withdrew with Clara for tea.

‘I heard you refused Babington.’

‘So?’ She pretended not to be surprised Edward told her.

‘You know our aunt encouraged the match.’

‘I’m not going to marry him just to please our aunt.’

‘So you didn’t want him?’

She looked up at her. Clara’s eyes were calculating.

‘Did Edward ask you to?’

Her stony face must have betrayed her, because suddenly Clara started shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

‘Esther, he isn’t worth it. This future you imagine isn’t worth it. He isn’t a good man.’

‘What would you know about it? You don’t know him like I do. We tried to get you out of Her favour. It meant nothing.’

‘I meant nothing, the kitchens maids in this town mean nothing, the whores mean nothing… If we don’t matter but he keeps coming to us, what does that tell you about the strength of his love?’

She’d been asking herself that exact same question for some weeks now.

‘He loves me.’

‘Clara, there are some –‘

‘ – sandwiches, ladies?

A servant brought them a tray of fish sandwiches and Clara looked at them with a disgusted face. She shoved her chair away from the table as Esther waved the servant away.

‘Clara?’

‘I’m fine… That fifth better be worth it’, her cousin mumbled.

.

.

.

‘All in all, I think you’ll come to regret ever setting foot in Sanditon. I know I do.’

She remembered one of the first things she said to Miss Heywood when she sat down in a chair next to her to hear of Lady Denham’s predicament.

The whole family, the reverend, the doctor and the Parker family had gathered in the large drawing room. The fireplace was roaring but a chill still managed to chase shivers down Esther’s spine.

‘It is now my solemn duty to inform you Lady Denham’s condition is now very precarious indeed.’

Tentative glances were exchanged.

‘How precarious are we speaking?’ asked the eldest Mr. Parker.

‘We are talking a possible funeral before the start of autumn.’

.

.

.

Everyone remained behind to talk, but one by one everyone left.

Just as Esther managed to get up, she was stopped by Clara.

‘A word, please?’

‘What is it?’

‘I’m pregnant. It’s from Edward.’

‘Why would it be his?’

‘He’s the only one I slept with.’

‘Are you sure you are… expecting?’

‘Pretty sure. It happened the morning after aunt first fell ill.’

That was over three weeks ago.

That was after she’d rejected Lord Babington because Edward had asked her to.

He’d asked her to refuse Babington and he’d still slept with Clara!

For years she had to endure Clara’s cruel remarks about the nature of her and Edward’s relationship. She knew how Esther felt about Edward and she still decided to sleep with him.

‘No Esther, don’t worry. We won’t leave you with nothing. We’ll make sure you’ll have a large dowry and more than enough money to maintain the lifestyle you should have.’

‘You think I’m thinking about money?!’

Clara paused and looked away.

Out of a whole family consisting of cunning snakes, she had to be the naïve one, and she had been played by all of them.

‘Congratulations, Clara. You win. You found a way to win no matter who aunt decides to give her inheritance to. And congratulations, you’re worth each other. That money was the only thing both of you ever cared about.’

‘But you wanted it too?’

‘For me, money was always just a means to an end. Not the goal itself.’

She’d been a fool for far too long.

She left the house and decided to embark on a walk before heading home.

Taking a minute to admire some lacework in an attempt to distract herself from her own tragedy she couldn’t help but overhear two familiar voices.

‘I do wonder if we should have at least prepared a bit for this race.’

‘A gentleman doesn’t practice, it’s tantamount to cheating.’

‘You keep looking around, don’t tell me you’re keeping an eye out for that miserable Denham creature.’

‘Heavens no, I’ve given up that hunt. It’s a futile pursuit.’

She wished the ground would just swallow her whole.

There was no one on this earth she could trust.

No one who cared for her.

She had no one to talk to.

She’d only ever wanted to have a family and be loved.

.

.

.

She arrived home three hours later and forced the information out of Edward.

He’d tried to deny it.

Then he tried blaming Clara.

Then he tried finding ways to avoid responsibility.

Esther just left the room and refused to speak to him anymore.

She didn’t care for his lies and vague promises.

She’d been fooled by them for far longer than she should have.

.

.

.

Her isolation lasted all of two days, in which she cried in her room for hours and only left to fetch meals.

She couldn’t play an instrument.

She couldn’t paint.

The second she tried to lift a pencil she simply broke down in tears.

She didn’t even know what she was mourning anymore.

There were no reasons anymore.

Just tears which came and went as they pleased.

She visited Lady Denham, who was now sleeping for most of the day.

And, as her last family member with an adult mindset was slipping away, she spilled everything to her sleepy figure.

She’d ignored her advice for far too long.

How she now prayed for any kind of advice.

.

.

.

Lady Denham miraculously recovered.

It wasn’t sudden. But at the end of that day she managed to speak again.

And by the next morning, she complained.

She couldn’t leave the bed and was still very very frail. Her condition was still extremely precarious, but it was a step forward.

She and Edward immediately came to the house.

Edward left because he had an appointment with some gentlemen, but Esther remained.

And big was her surprise when Lady Denham requested to speak to Esther in private when she awoke, instead of to both her and Clara.

Her aunt was as pale as a paper, and supported by dozens of pillows, but her blue eyes were clearer than they had been in two weeks.

‘I heard you. I heard… all of you… Moping and nagging around my bed… Won’t… waste breath on othes… I’ll – I – I sh… Shalllll deal with then la-er. You… Dumb… Chile… But I… Help… Listen f’om now on.’

She fell down beside her aunt’s bed and threw her arms over her.

She didn’t know what could be saved.

She daren’t believe.

But she knew this: no matter what happens to her aunt, she always keeps her promises.

.

.

.

After four days, the doctor guaranteed them that Lady Denham would recover.

A day after, news of Sydney Parker’s and Charlotte Heywood’s engagement broke.

Another three days later, Lady Denham could walk and talk and she would have it known.

First to be summoned were Edward and Clara.

For scheming, immoral behaviour, premarital pregnancy and the burning of a fake will she had intentionally put in an easily findable place, she cursed them. They were to be married quickly, the reasons were to be hushed, and though Lady Denham wouldn’t have it known to the public, they wer officially out of her good graces. They got the smallest amount of money, just enough to afford a three bedroom house away from Sanditon, just them and one servant. Edward would have to work for his money and they wouldn’t receive anything more. If they dared go against Lady Denham’s wishes, she would make sure the truth came to light so that they would be shunned.

A horse race took place in Sanditon the next day and Lady Denham arranged for Esther to go with the Parkers.

‘We’re proud creatures, and he’s a spurned lover. It will be difficult, but it can be done. He probably won’t seek you out but just having you in his sight, being pretty without doing anything wrong should help. That will be our technique the first few times you’ll be near him again. Don’t look like you’re having too much fun, appear a bit self-conscious. If you fail to procure said facial expression, just think how you stupidly wasted years of your life lusting after your broke stupid stepbrother. That should do the trick. You do want him, right? Or do you want to start with a clean slate with another rich gentleman?’

‘Oh, he’s fine. So… I won’t apologize?’

‘Heavens no, we’re Denhams. We don’t do that. Us pretending nothing happened is the equivalent of admitting we were wrong.’

‘Oh.’

‘But you’ll bet on him. Not too much, but enough to show you believe in his capacities. It should stroke his ego.’

So she went to the race.

And wanted to cheer for Lord Babington.

But she also felt too self-conscious to do anything but stare. Just looking at him pulled on her heartstrings. It wasn’t hard to look sullen, when he represented everything she’d lost because of her stupid dreams.

He got the lead after the first lapse and two other young women cheered. Esther wished to carve their eyes out. But truthfully, what right did she have? She’d sent him walking.

‘It’s a shame Lady Denham can’t be here with us today. Look at the crowds! There are more people here than there are inhabitants in the two neighbouring towns! It’s a tremendous success. And just look at how extravagant and beautiful everyone looks. Look how many carriages are standing there! And I’ve heard already two thousand pounds have been put in the betting pool. Amazing!’

She couldn’t even be bothered by the overly excited chattering of Mr. Parker, or the fretful talk of the youngest Parker about famous racing injuries. She only had eyes for the jocks.

She didn’t truly expect Babington to win, though she did wish him luck inside of her head.

But in a freak accident the top five jocks, who’d been in many races before, all fell in one big mess of horses, legs and arms. Babington, who had gotten behind after that first lapse, was the first to reach that point without being involved in the accident and arrived on the scene as the horses and their riders were being lead away, which made it possible for him to get past it.

He won.

‘He – Did I see that correctly? Did Lord Babington just win? That other fellow was quite close to him when he crossed the line’, asked the youngest Mr. Parker.

‘He did, he actually did’, Esther confessed.

‘I’m glad I didn’t bet for too much money’, Arthur Parker confessed.

‘Did you bet?’

‘Thirty pounds’, Sidney Parker confessed.

‘I’m not giving money to something I shouldn’t’, Tom Parker admitted.

‘Fifty pounds’, Esther admitted, but Arthur Parker had heard her.

‘Fifty? Oh, poor Miss Denham. That’s an awful lot to lose. I’m so sorry. Someone should have explained the game to you. You should have told us you considered betting.’

‘I didn’t lose.’

‘You didn’t lose? You didn’t lose. She didn’t lose! Why, you bet on our Lord Babington? Miss Denham, I think you might have been the only one who bet on him. What prophetic orb did you look into? My, you must have won so much tonight.’

.

.

.

Betting on him did have the precise effect Lady Denham had envisioned.

She hadn’t expected to win money, but she’d gotten so much that she could pay a year’s expenses with it.

Secondly, there was no doubt Lord Babington had heard of the miraculous bet, only three people had bet on him in the twenty horses counting race, and no one had bet as much as Esther. His curiosity would be peaked. Lady Denham had reasoned that showing him Esther was willing to lose money on him would have been a signal that she was prepared to make an effort for him. But now her support in him was fruitful against the odds, and had made both of them richer. He couldn’t mourn that.

Thirdly, it made Esther’s interest in Babington known without her having to do anything.

.

.

.

The race week ball was close and Lady Denham had forced Esther to sleep long each day. She still looked skinny and tired and she needed her full beauty.

If that Babington man decided to be stupid, she would have to attract other men on the night of the ball. She doubted there were many men interested in her personality.

Esther presented the white ballgown she considered wearing. It looked innocent and cute, but everyone wore white to the ball.

‘No, put them all on. I’ll decide afterwards.’

Pale pink one made her look unhealthy, the yellow one made her look sallow, the red one looked too much like she was determined to seduce, the blue one pointed out how skinny she was, the black one didn’t give her the look she needed… But the purple one with darker purple sashes, big puffy sleeves and delicate expensive needling made her look like a storybook princess.

‘Yes, that one will do.’

On the night of the ball she was all dolled up, and sent to the ball with the Miss Lambe, Miss Heywood and the Parker family.

She didn’t care for the ball.

She didn’t care for the conversation.

She didn’t care for the people.

It was all too overwhelming for her so soon after the recent heartache and betrayal.

And all by all, she felt way too pressured. She couldn’t forget she was there on a mission to win someone’s heart. Someone whose heart she had broken and had no right to try and catch again.

She didn’t know if it was the guilt, regret or anxiety which caused her heart to beat so violently whenever she noticed him.

She wanted to crawl under the table. Never before had she felt embarrassment, and now she felt it so keenly she didn’t know how she could ever regain her habitual cool composure.

But her aunt had commanded her to talk to her acquaintances while being _nice_ and dance with anyone who asked.

‘There’s a chance he might refuse, so we need to show you off to the other wealthy men who’ve come down to Sanditon. Maybe seeing you dancing with them may even spark a little jealousy.’

She managed to follow the rules her aunt had set out for two hours, until she’d come to dance and touch hands with Lord Babington during a Cotillon.

She finished the dance and the following one so nobody would notice, but then she slipped away from the ballroom towards – she didn’t know where she could go to be alone.

And she really needed to be alone, preferably outside so she could have some fresh air. The longer it took her to find a spot, the more her anxiety grew.

She finally stumbled outside on shaky legs, her dancing slippers too smooth for the marble stairs. She slipped and fell, but it was too dark for anyone to notice. She inched towards a couple of big plants, leaning heavily on the railing as she drew breath.

It was shaky and uneven, and the more she focussed on it, the worse it became. Yet she was also acutely aware that she couldn’t make her difficulty breathing too obvious. She didn’t want to draw the attention of the other people out on the terrace.

‘There’s some pretty ladies out there tonight ey?’

‘Shut up, you rascal.’

‘I’m just saying… Those are London quality ladies, you don’t see those around Sanditon an awful lot.’

‘Have you made your pick?’

‘Yes, that blonde one, Miss Whitemore. She’s quite the beauty. And I heared she’s from a good family.’

‘Planning on settling down after all?’

‘Won’t stay young, might start exploring the market now. It won’t be for another two years probably but it might be time I start looking – you shouldn’t drink that fast. That makes how many? Six glasses of whiskey? You’ve already drunk plenty of wine during dinner.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Are you? More than half of them were between that dance with that creature and now.’

‘Calm it, will you. I told you before I’m not interested in embarrassing myself a second time.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘She confuses me. First ignoring me, then warming up to me, rejecting me, and now betting that much money on me? I don’t understand at all. It bugs me. I wish she would leave me alone. I’m tired of thinking of her.’

She shouldn’t be here.

She only noticed she was crying when she tried to sneak away and a gust of wind hit her, making her aware of the cold wet lines the tears had left behind on her cheeks.

To add to her embarrassment, her eyes connecting to Lord Babington, who had become highly attuned to noticing the particular shade of red hair adorning Miss Denham’s head. She turned away without ado and left the party.

.

.

.

‘It’s useless. We need to find another potential spouse’, Esther exclaimed the next morning.

‘Oh well, we tried. Isn’t there the theatre tonight?’

‘Yes.’

‘Go and be pretty. I’ll make sure Tom shares his cabin with a couple of interesting figures.’

They were interesting figures. An elderly rich man with a large moustache, a young dandy who altogether reminded her too much of her brother, and his uneasy brother. She gravitated towards him, grasping for the one with the least pretense. She didn’t want to worry about someone playing a certain part tonight. She was too tired for games.

After the play everyone drank a couple glasses of champagne, and just as the uneasy brother, who had quite warmed up to her, was analysing the play and its details for her, he was interrupted by no one less than Lord Babington.

‘Miss Denham, could I have a word?’

He seemed just as unhappy about the prospect as she.

She nodded and silently followed as her heartbeat picked up again.

‘I believe you overheard a part of a conversation you weren’t intended to hear last night.’

Esther nodded. ‘It’s fine, I’ll pretend it didn’t happen.’

Lord Babington’s eyebrows knitted together at the lack of edge to her voice, the spineless admittance.

‘No, mean things were said. I feel the need to apologize and clarify myself.’

‘Oh really, Lord Babington, after everything I said you don’t owe me anything. I’ve hurt you as well, my feelings are of no consequence and nothing for you to worry about. You may go.’

‘You just refused me. It’s not an insult, it was just how you felt. You could have done without the shallow remark, but it honestly doesn’t come near what I’ve said last night. I didn’t want to call the proposal embarrassing, it wasn’t, I just felt embarrassed for putting my feelings out there, it’s not like I thought asking for your hand was embarrassing… And though you confuse me, I had no right to say what I said. You’re not doing anything except existing and moving in the same circles as I am, you can’t help that. Sanditon is a small town after all. It’s my fault I struggle so much with seeing you. I’m constantly aware of you… That isn’t your fault. More than wishing you gone I wish… I wish you could become a normal acquaintance to my eyes and thoughts.’

‘I thought you’d given up on the hunt.’

Damn her quick mouth! Why did she have to say that?

Colour rose to his cheeks.

‘Ah – you heard of that?’ He scratched the back of his head.

‘I have. Of course I have. What use is it chasing after someone who doesn’t want me?’

What could she say to that? That was what she had said “without a shred of pretence.”

‘I understand… Given that I confused you, I might try and clarify some things? I believe I owe you that much.’

He was still looking at her with a strange look in his eyes.

‘If it wouldn’t trouble you, perhaps you could. Yes.’

Esther nodded.

‘Why did you bet on my horse?’

Maybe answering truthfully wasn’t the smartest idea, but she could still tell her own truth.

‘I wanted to make amends. I felt guilty for how I treated you.’

It was more of an apology than her aunt would have liked. It was far too honest.

‘Why would you feel guilty? It’s not like you chose to refuse, it was simply something you had to do when you didn’t want to marry me.’

‘I –‘, she sighed and looked away.

Her heart was beating so quickly she was quite certain she would faint.

‘What?’ His voice suddenly sounded commanding and strained.

She turned back towards him. The look in his gaze unsettled her enormously.

‘I might not have made the final decision.’

‘You let someone else decide?’

‘In case you forgot, I am a woman. Technically we don’t have a voice unless the men in our families grant us one.’

‘And that’s what happened? Your brother was against it?’

She nodded.

His gaze was too intense so she averted her eyes again.

There was a prolonged silence as her eyes were cast down.

She focussed on the soft moving of her skirt in the wind, until she noticed a pair of black shoes coming closer.

‘Have you formed an opinion on it yourself?’

She nodded again.

‘What was your answer?’

A hot hand took her gloved one.

If her heart beat too fast before, it had now completely stopped.

She studied their entwined hands. Her chest cavity burned. She felt constrained, like her body was too small to contain the feelings that were running through her.

His thumb stroked the topside of her hand, and her eyes fluttered shut. Another hand came round hers.

She couldn’t say it.

Her body was paralyzed.

No, no she absolutely _had_ to say it.

There was no other way.

She swallowed, her throat was as dry as the beach. It hurt to get the spit through her throat.

‘Yes.’

The silence was deafening.

And in that silence, she suddenly became aware of the background noises. Carriages in the streets, music from inside, a couple passing by.

But when she looked up, she could only look towards one thing.

‘I’m taking you home.’

No words could leave her throat. Her voice had performed its duty and now it would remain silent.

‘To your house.’

Esther nodded.

He took her back inside, their body contact never breaking as he put her hand on his offered arm. He found the Parkers in record time, finding an excellent excuse about her feeling faint and the night air not managing to fix it.

The awfully long night had finally come to an end. She could almost weep with joy when the carriage closed and she was officially gone from the party.

She looked at Lord Babington sitting opposite her. He hadn’t talked about the proposal since she had admitted her original answer. Did he still want her? Would they still marry?

‘You haven’t been yourself.’

It wasn’t a question.

‘I’ve been tired… A lot happened the past few weeks.’

Edward was gone. If she wanted people to confide in, she would just have to start talking to people.

He nodded most empathically.

‘Pardon me for saying so, but it appears you lost your… Peace of mind.’

‘I never had it. But I must admit I’ve been struggling to keep my cool. And I’ve been too tired to be either witty or sharp. You must forgive me for being too dull.’

‘Not too dull at all, Miss Denham. But I did wonder what occupied your mind so.’

She didn’t break eye contact.

And suddenly, she got that pressing feeling again in her chest, combined with a heat in her belly and a tingling in her limbs. Discomfort? A primal need to run?

It turned out to be neither, because suddenly Lord Babington moved to her side of the carriage and pressed her against his chest.

At first she was too shocked to move, simply breathing in his scent as she tried to control her breathing. But then her fingers started itching to touch him. Her body craved another one to hold in ways she didn’t even understand. She hadn’t been held in so long.

Her finger snaked over his shoulders, towards the back of his neck, and there gripped the fabric of his coat as she pressed herself closer against him.

Her chest felt like it was going to explode, yet both her heartbeat and breathing were normalising.

She slowly became aware of things like his legs against hers, his hands moving in circular patterns on her back and the weight of his head resting on hers.

And all of those things felt as natural and good, if not more good, than when Edward touched her.

She tugged on his coat, pulling him even more towards her until their chests could touch despite being in their current sitting positions. Laying her ear against his chest, she took a deep breath.

She tried to silence all the voices in her head that it was all fine. That nobody would hold her like this unless they wanted to marry her. That it was alright to be vulnerable with someone who wasn’t Edward. But she couldn’t completely silence them until she suddenly felt a light but distinct pressure against her shoulder, and then her clavicle. She turned away from his chest, and the pressure was applied to a sweet spot at the base of her neck. He was kissing her with more gentleness and more eagerness than Edward had.

She instinctively craned her neck towards him. He hungrily started kissing upward. His kisses started lasting longer, with his lips further apart… Until he suddenly started applying pressure. She gasped and he tried to pull away, but she quickly pulled him back.

‘Please.’

His lips were against hers in an instant. Never demanding, but not light and stiff as if he was unwilling. He was offering them to her.

She melted against him, her need to be held tightly now at an all time high as she kissed him back with far far more eagerness than any lady should ever show.

One arm held her, and his free hand guided her head as his fingers toyed with her hair.

They only parted when the carriage stopped.

She felt limp and tired to the bone, but in a wholly different way than before.

Her whole body felt warm, and the blood in her veins seemed to buzz with contentment.

The voices were finally silent.

‘You must know, I’ve only kissed two times before… And never like this.’

‘It’s fine, Esther. I wasn’t thinking about that at all.’

_Esther_.

‘Drop me off inside, will you? It’s only polite.’ He sniggered at her refound voice and attitude.

‘Of course, my future lady.’

‘So we’re engaged.’

‘Yes, of course, I’m sorry. I should have clarified, I considered it evident. Yes, very much engaged. I still love you. I never managed to get you out of my head.’

‘Good, because I think I like being there.’

‘In my shallow head?’

She pressed a kiss against his head right before she stood and made for the door.

‘Shut it. I’m not apologizing twice in one evening. I usually don’t even apologize once.’

.

.

.

‘Esther, back already? It’s not even past twelve!’

Esther rounded the corner and appeared in the threshold of the living room.

‘I decided to retire.’

Lady Denham turned around in her chair and was shocked to notice the figure standing beside her niece.

‘Lady Denham, I’ve come to ask for your nieces hand in marriage. I haven’t asked you beforehand, but I have asked her and she said yes. I would like to have your blessing.’

The old lady gave him a cold glance.

‘Now something was wrong in how you went about it. You didn’t ask me and I don’t see a chaperone who would have been in the carriage with the two of you. In my time these things were much stricter… But I’ll allow it. You have my blessing, Lord Babington. But only supervised visits from now on until the wedding, understood?’

The man froze, and even Esther felt some colour rising in her cheeks.

‘Yes, Lady Denham.’

‘Good. I’ll see you tomorrow for tea at three. You may say goodbye to each other in the hallway.’

A last kiss was stolen and then Esther returned to the room with a whole glowing heart.

‘Well. What did I say? I told you we were going to fix it. I never break a promise.’

‘I can’t thank you enough aunt.’

‘So happy. See, see that smile? Good heavens, you can’t even get it off your face when you try. How disgusting. There, you’re happy and you’ll have a good future, and that barely required a penny from me.’

**Author's Note:**

> \- These two wouldn’t get out of my head. Yesterday I'd been trying to sleep for hours and the need to write them wouldn’t leave my head.  
\- Esther is a bit OOC because she’s both sensitive and fragile and cold and indifferent to the outside world. But in her own head, I imagine there must be quite a war between her emotions and desires.  
\- I imagine that part of why she loves Edward is because he is literally the only one she’s close with. She doesn’t let anyone else get close and the people who are closer aren’t really kind (her aunt) nor can she trust them to not use her weaknesses for their own agenda (Clara). Edward isn’t nice and he certainly doesn’t return all the love she throws at him but I imagine she’s quite desperate to keep the only remaining relative she’s close with, with her. He’s not ideal but who else is there? And he knows how to manipulate her and keep her coming back with just enough.  
\- In the regency era there just wasn’t a lot of physical contact, not even between siblings. Just try and imagine going months or years without a comforting hug. This is even a huge problem in modern day society where people are actually being hired to hug and offer some physical comforting. Esther, as a woman, can’t go around casually hooking up with men like her brother does with women but she tries to get every touch out of her brother where possible, even like brushing her hair. She’s desperate for affection and can’t ask it of anyone else. It’s quite possible that out of a need for more love, and him being the only one to provide any, she started reflecting love on him.


End file.
